


Labors of Love

by MaryRoyale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cedric is Frey, F/M, Frey/Gerdr, Hufflepuffs are Vanir, Millicent is Gerdr, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Slytherins are Jotnar, norse myth au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29298369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryRoyale/pseuds/MaryRoyale
Summary: Loosely based on the Norse Myth of Frey/Gerdr. Cedric the Vanir falls in love at first sight with Millicent, a Jotun. He attempts to woo her as a Vanir god should, but not quite how a Jotun maid would prefer.
Relationships: Millicent Bulstrode/Cedric Diggory
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39
Collections: Love Fest 2021





	Labors of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frumpologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/gifts).



> I say loosely based because most myths are a bit too "consent not required" for my tastes. 
> 
> Mythology/History AUs are one of my favorite sandboxes to play in. So huge thanks to Frumpologist for this suggestion because I got so excited when I saw this prompt: 
> 
> Cedric/Millicent  
> Mythos
> 
> #teamVenus

“What is that?” Millicent demanded flatly.

Shifting hesitantly from foot to foot on her porch was one of the prettiest creatures Millicent had ever seen. A delicate flush spread over his perfectly bronzed skin and his brilliantly white teeth sunk into the plushness of his lower lip. His broad shoulders slumped, and he looked up at her helplessly.

“It’s supposed to be a courting gift,” he muttered.

“Look… elf,” Millicent sighed.

“I’m not an elf,” the creature protested, his lips twisting into a distracting pout.

“Æsir?” Millicent guessed, taking a cautious step deeper into her house, just in case.

“Vanir,” the creature huffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest, and scowling at his feet.

“Are you lost?” Millicent blurted out.

“Am I… what?” The Vanir stared at her with his wide blue eyes blinking in confusion. 

“This is Jotunheim,” Millicent pointed out.

“I know this is Jotunheim,” The Vanir snapped.

“I’m not sure who you think you’re courting, Vanir,” Millicent sighed.

“You,” The Vanir said with a mulish expression on his handsome face.

“But… I’m Jotun,” Millicent protested.

“I know that,” The Vanir muttered. The delicate flush on his cheeks grew darker. “You’re Millicent, daughter of the Jotun Bulstrode.”

“And you want to court _me_ ,” Millicent said flatly. The Vanir lifted his chin and stared at her.

“Yes,” he said. He held out the box again.

With a suspicious frown, Millicent took the box from him and carefully opened it. Laying carefully on a velvet cushion were several golden apples. Millicent stared at the apples and then raised her head to stare at the Vanir in front of her.

“Are these…,” Millicent faltered, trailing off.

“They are Idunn’s apples,” the Vanir said with a hopeful expression.

“I don’t need eternal life,” Millicent said flatly. She took a deep, calming breath. “Look Vanir—”

“It’s Cedric, actually,” he informed her helpfully.

“Cedric,” she repeated.

There was only Vanir named Cedric, as far as Millicent knew. The twin brother to the goddess Lavender. Was this some kind of joke? Was this the only way that the gods had to amuse themselves these days? Millicent’s hands clenched into fists and she glared at the stupidly perfect, pretty Vanir on her doorstep.

“Go back to Niflheim,” Millicent snapped and slammed the door in his face.

* * *

A month later, Millicent opened her door to step outside. Standing on her porch was the Vanir, Cedric. He offered her a bright, sunny smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. With a heavy sigh, Millicent leaned against her doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest. She arched an eyebrow at Cedric.

“Yes, Vanir?” She asked drily. 

“It’s Cedric,” he reminded her with a wounded look in his big blue eyes.

“Cedric,” she repeated.

Carefully, he lifted both palms up. Resting on his palms was another box. It was beautifully carved wood and Millicent took a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship that had gone into it.

“This,” Cedric murmured as he opened the box and lifted up the lid, “is a magical golden ring. Every ninth night it will create eight more rings of gold.”

“I see.” Millicent stared at the ring, gleaming brightly inside the box.

“It’s a courting gift,” Cedric offered with a hopeful smile in her direction.

“I don’t need gold, Cedric,” Millicent protested. She moved to step back into her house, her hand already reaching for the door.

“Wait,” he cried out and took a step forward. The corners of his mouth turned down and he was staring at her with those wounded eyes again. “Please,” he begged.

Millicent’s mouth fell open and she stared at the Vanir on her doorstep in shock. The Vanir and the Æsir stayed out of Jotunheim. There weren’t _rules_ about it or anything, but Millicent knew that there were plenty of Jotun that had no patience for the shining, pretty little gods that flitted about Niflheim.

As far as Millicent knew, they certainly weren’t eager to prance through the stark, frozen mountains of her homeland. Whenever the Æsir appeared in Jotunheim it was because Odin’s bloodlust was up again. And the Vanir… well… they could fight, but they weren’t Odin’s like warriors. Millicent knew that Cedric was a Vanir, but she’d never actually _seen_ one in the flesh.

“Why,” she said flatly.

“I want to marry you.” The pretty little god announced proudly, a pleased smile on his face.

“Why?” Millicent demanded.

“Why do I want to marry you?” Cedric asked, his brow furrowing.

“Yes,” Millicent said and arched a brow at him. “Why do you want to marry me?”

“I loved you from the first moment I saw you, standing down by the river,” Cedric said and pointed toward the river near her holding.

“You don’t even know me,” Millicent protested. She scowled at him. 

“If you let me court you, I could get to know you,” Cedric pointed out.

“Ymir’s teeth,” Millicent huffed impatiently.

“Do you want those?” Cedric asked with an eager, hopeful expression. “I could get you one, if you want?”

Carefully, Millicent pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep, cleansing breath.

“Fine,” she muttered after a moment. Then she shook her head. “I mean… I do not want Ymir’s teeth. Cedric, look at me. I will not be happy if you uproot one of Ymir’s teeth and drag it here. Do you understand me?”

“Of course,” Cedric agreed happily. He paused and bit his lower lip. “But you are agreeing to the courting, right?”

“May the Norns have mercy on me, I think I am,” Millicent admitted.

The way Cedric’s face lit up was not sweet. Millicent did not feel any sort of soft, ridiculous feelings for the pretty little god. She didn’t. It was probably the smoked fish she’d had for breakfast. Maybe it had gone off. She made a mental note to check on it later.

* * *

“The little god came to visit you again,” Marcus stated and then scratched idly at his chin. “What did he bring you this time?”

“Amber,” Millicent said and shrugged helplessly.

“He has no idea how to woo a Jotun,” Marcus snorted and shook his head.

“No, he really doesn’t,” Millicent agreed, sighing heavily.

“How long are you going to let this go on for, Millie?” Marcus asked her quietly.

“I don’t… he’s very sweet, for a Vanir,” Millicent admitted reluctantly.

“I suppose,” Marcus muttered. He stood up with a sigh and moved over to her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Don’t let the fact that he’s from Niflheim sway you.”

“It won’t,” Millicent huffed at him. “I’m a Jotun.”

“I know you are,” Marcus said. He tilted his head, eyeing Millicent for a long moment. “For what it’s worth, I hope that your little god figures it out.”

In the corner of Millicent’s holding there was a pile of all of Cedric’s courting gifts. Millicent hadn’t bothered to take any of them out of their gift boxes. It would make it that much easier to return everything when Cedric finally admitted that his courting wasn’t working. It wasn’t as though Millicent didn’t _want_ it to work. She had grown to like the shining pretty Vanir and his bright smiles.

The difference between the inhabitants of Jotunheim and Niflheim were varied and many. Millicent had heard the songs their skalds sang, and she knew what they said about the Jotnar. Millicent was not impressed, and Cedric had done nothing to address that. There had been no promises that she would be treated with all due courtesy. There had been no protestations that she would be honoured in his holding.

With a heavy sigh, Millicent glanced at the pile of gifts again and then headed to her distillery. She had herbs steeping and it was almost time to check on them. She might as well do it now.

The next day her little god was back again, but so was Greg. Cedric grandly waved at Greg to go first and then beamed proudly at Millicent as though he had done something amazing and praiseworthy. Millicent arched an eyebrow at Cedric and then focused on Greg.

“Greg?” Millicent greeted him hesitantly. She hadn’t seen Greg in months. He’d gone off on some quest high up in the mountains. “You’re back.”

“I am,” Greg agreed. “Brought you a present.”

“You did?” Millicent grinned at him. Greg knew about the work she did with herbs and he always tried to bring her new and interesting plants. She put her hands on her hips. “Let’s see it then.”

The tiny pot looked ridiculous in Greg’s large hands, but he was cradling it gently. Millicent leaned down to examine the plant a little more carefully. She hummed thoughtfully, stroking a delicate leaf with one finger. It was unusual, certainly. Millicent had never seen anything like it.

“What do you think?” Greg asked, his voice a deep rumble. Millicent grinned so widely that her cheeks hurt.

“I love it, Greg,” she said happily. “I definitely don’t have anything like this.”

“Good,” Greg grunted, but his shoulders loosened, and relief radiated from him.

“Silly Jotun,” she teased, slapping him on the chest. “When have you ever brought me something I didn’t like?”

“Bound to happen at some point,” he said with a shrug. Millicent rolled her eyes.

“Doubtful,” she said drily.

“Who’s this then?” Greg asked jerking his head in Cedric’s direction.

“Cedric,” Millicent replied.

“He’s Vanir,” Greg pointed out.

“I noticed,” Millicent said.

“Huh.” Greg eyed Cedric for a moment and then turned back to Millicent, his nostrils flaring. “You okay?”

Millicent laughed and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“I’m fine,” she promised. “Now go on. Marcus is waiting.”

There was a pregnant pause as Greg turned to go and he stopped and nodded his head at Cedric. Cedric blinked in surprise and then nodded back cautiously. He watched Greg lumber down the hill toward the holding that he shared with Marcus, and then Cedric turned back to face Millicent. He stared at her with wide, sad eyes.

“I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?” He sighed. He waved a hand in the air. “The courting. You’re not going to say yes, are you?”

“You’ve only been courting me for six months,” Millicent said slowly. She arched an eyebrow at Cedric. “I agreed to the courting. You are allowed a year and a day.”

“I am?” Cedric blinked at that. “Is that how Jotun court one another?”

“Generally, yes,” Millicent sighed. “But you aren’t really courting me like a Jotun would, and I’m not very familiar with the courting rituals of Niflheim.” She paused and tilted her head to the side. “I can only assume they usually include gold and rare gifts.”

“Yes,” Cedric admitted. He frowned. “How would… what should I be doing?”

“For starters?” Millicent asked drily. Cedric nodded quickly. She waved a hand at her holding. “You could plough the fields. Or fix my roof. The courting period is your opportunity to show me what kind of husband you plan on being.”

“You’re not interested in a husband that shows up every couple of weeks with presents that you can’t really use,” Cedric muttered half to himself.

“No, I’m not,” Millicent agreed.

“Right,” Cedric said and nodded. “I can do this. I’m not afraid to work hard.”

Things changed after that. Her little god showed up every single day and asked Millicent what needed to be done. When Millicent mentioned the fact that Cedric was now coming every single day, he had frowned at her, his thick brows furrowing together.

“As your husband, I expect to see you every single day,” he’d informed her. “If I thought I could get away with it, I would sleep in your fields every night.”

“Don’t be silly,” Millicent had huffed at him and rolled her eyes. “You can sleep in the hall with everyone else.”

The eagerness with which Cedric accepted her offer was flattering. He was up disgustingly early every single morning, a bright wide smile on his face. He learned how to brew her favourite tea and always had a cup ready for her when she woke.

As soon as it was dawn, Cedric was out the door and working in her fields, coaxing her crops to grow lush and strong. The animals all loved him: the hens eager to lay for him and the cows thrilled to be milked by him. Cedric repaired every warped hinge and every squeaking board in the holding. He still found time to try and help her in the distillery, hovering at her shoulder and following any of her orders without hesitation.

The first time Millicent offered Cedric a horn of her specially brewed mead, the hall went quiet. Her people stared at Cedric with varying degrees of concentration, holding their breath to hear his verdict. He smacked his lips after the first sip and then drained the horn. There was a soft sigh through the hall and happy murmurs.

“That was amazing,” Cedric praised her mead. “Where did you get that? I need to gift a barrel of that to Odin.”

“It’s mine,” Millicent said and flushed. “I brew it here, in the distillery.”

“You are incredible,” Cedric informed her, his cheeks flushed with mead. “I’d marry you for your mead skills alone.”

Millicent snorted. “You wouldn’t be the first to offer for me based on my mead-making.”

“It’s not just the mead-making,” Cedric protested indignantly. “We just… we fit. Don’t you see? You love plants and I’m a god of growing things. I could help you with all your projects. I could be _good_ for you.”

No one had ever promised to be good for Millicent. She sucked in a breath and stared at the golden, glowing god in front of her. Devotion shone in his eyes and he set his jaw with determination, facing off against her as though he was going to battle. This was probably an unbelievably bad idea.

“Okay,” Millicent decided.

“Okay?” Cedric repeated. He blinked at her in surprise. “You’re going to let me have you?”

Millicent snorted. “I’m going to let you be good for me,” she countered.

“And you’ll marry me?” Cedric pressed, a giddy expression on his face. Millicent shrugged.

“Why not?” She said.

The kiss was a surprise, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Cedric pressed himself against her and his lips teased hers. When he pulled back, he was smiling at her with a besotted expression.

“You won’t regret this,” he promised her.

“I don’t think I will,” she murmured and blushed.


End file.
